


Furious Therapy

by ChromedWitness



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Eventual Relationships, F/M, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Other, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-12
Updated: 2015-06-22
Packaged: 2018-04-04 02:22:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4122436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChromedWitness/pseuds/ChromedWitness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A group of young women, a cancer patient, a former cop, and a war veteran all have something in common. They learn to deal with their issues and start trusting again as they go to group therapy. Who they really are and why they need the therapy will be revealed over time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Meeting

Furious Therapy

 

An annoyed grunt left her lips as she juggled the leash in her good arm and pushed a door open with her prosthetic limb. This was not where she wanted to be, but she had promised to give it a shot, and she always came through with her promises. Dark eyes glanced into the room beyond - it was lit brightly, too brightly for her tastes, but she pushed in with a military swagger as if she owned the room. She eyed the three young women already sitting, “Are any of you allergic to dogs?” She asked, more gruffly than she meant.  
The women shook their heads silently, wide eyed looks on their faces, a few gazes straying to her missing arm, then to her dog. He was wearing a working dog jacket, but nothing else besides his leash.

One of the women wiggled in her seat, her expression nervous as she looked between the dog and her missing arm. She fussed with her dark hair, then blurted out, “Is he a seeing ey-“

“No. PTSD.” She replied quickly, her expression not angry, but not apologetic either. She did not want sympathy, or questions, but neither would she hide her problems. It was a side affect of war, and her dog was… Well, he wasn’t a cure, but he was a step in the right direction. He kept her grounded when she found herself triggered, kept her safe. He also functioned as a deterrent for people who thought that they could take advantage of her. “He keeps me calm.” She amended, knowing the girl was simply curious.

She took a seat, as far from where the psychologist would be seated, then took stock of the young women again - they were all young, and pretty, and yet each of them had a pain in their eyes to match her own. She had no idea what they had been through, but she could already tell that this was going to be an emotionally trying meeting for them all.  
“This is Max.” She pointed at the german shepherd at her feet, because she needed something to break the ice, “He’d been a police dog in training, but…” She touched his belly with her foot, causing him to fall over eagerly and start wagging his tail, “He kept trying to make friends with the bad guys.”

The girl gave a small chuckle as she felt more at ease. The door opened again, with a woman entering the room with soft, unassuming steps. It was obvious from her clothing that she was the psychologist.

“Good evening.” She offered as she looked at the clipboard clutched in her hands, then to the clock settled on the wall. Her eyes looked them over, obviously evaluating them already. “We still have a few more minutes for the others to get here. I’m Dr. Annamore, by the way. And while that is my real name, I know some of you might feel more comfortable using nick names for these sessions. Please do whatever makes you comfortable.” She stated, sitting down to push her shockingly red hair over her shoulders.

She was followed by an anemic looking young man who was hairless, without even an eyelash showing. He was wearing a tightly fitting tank that showed a couple of strange lumps on his shoulder, and has scars running over his face and arm. He kept his arms close to himself, and looked around like he was a trapped animal. He mumbled something under his breath as he took a seat on the side of the circle of chairs farthest away from the women. His mannerisms unsettled them, and it was obvious that some of his scarring was self caused and decorative in nature, adding a creepy element to their upcoming group therapy.

A couple minutes later two more women walk in, one obviously pregnant. She settled down next to the previous three with an air of quiet confidence, while the other ended up next to the dog, who had his own seat just from sitting in front of it. She seemed to take solace in his presence, although she respectfully refrained from touching him.

Finally, the door creaked open one last time, and this time a middle aged man stuck his head in. After having an obvious internal debate, he crept in and settled down.

“All right, looks like we are all here.” The doctor started without preamble, “We’ll start slow. Introductions. We can take turns talking, and nothing will be forced out of you. The goal here is to help you move beyond your experiences, not scar you further.” She clicked a pen, then held it over her clipboard, “Remember, you can go by a nick name if you want. Who wants to start?” She asked, avoiding looking at them for the moment to keep from calling anyone out in an already nervous group of patients.

“Angharad.” The pregnant woman responded quickly, “It means, ‘much loved one’, and I hope I can come to believe it.”

“Toast.” Another responded, a smile just barely touching her eyes, possibly from the silliness of the name. She personally felt it was needed to help counter the seriousness of a name like Angharad.

“Call me Capable.” The woman who spoke this time had hair as read as the therapist, and a far more serious expression on her face. “Someone’s got to be.”

“Nux.” The sickly looking man said with a slight wheeze to his breath, a strange look on his face as he offered the name up, “Supposed to be a tough nut to crack.”

“Furiosa.” She finally spoke, letting her anger take shape in the name she chose for herself.

“Cheedo.” The youngest said, having spent the last minute thinking hard about what she wanted to be called.

“Dag. I want to be the Dag.” The final young woman added to the names, a distant look in her eyes that made Furiosa wonder if the blonde was slightly mad.

Each of them turned their eyes towards the last one to enter the room, only to have him hesitate, then shake his head with a grunt.

Furiosa raised an eyebrow at him, then shrugged. He seemed like he’d been through a lot, too, but she still couldn’t let that slide. “If we need you, we’ll call you ‘fool’.” She hoped he knew she was joking, mostly. “The dog is Max.” She added for the sake of the newcomers, noting the guy suddenly shooting her an odd look.

The first session was, as promised, light. There was no prying, nothing went into details, but it was obvious to Furiosa that all involved had suffered trauma. They were encouraged to get to know each other a little, something that all five of the young women were able to do. Nun looked lost and tried to gravitate towards the unnamed man who did not appreciate it. He wanted to leave and be left alone. She knew that feeling well, but managed to eventually draw a few words out of him, guessing through his body mannerisms that he’d been a cop.

Since the girls were busy among themselves, Nux was left to his own devices, and eventually ended up on the floor next to Max, chattering to him gently. Furiosa finally tuned into his conversation when it was obvious she’d gotten all she could get out of ‘Fool’. He was talking as much to himself as to the dog, she realized, leaving her to wonder exactly what it was this kid was in for. Did he really belong in this group?

“Nux.” It was the young red head, Capable, who finally asked out of all who had noticed the behavior, “Who are Larry and Barry?”

“My mate’s.” He drug the shirt collar down enough to expose the smiley faces on his ‘mates’. “They’re trying to kill me, but that’s okay.” Their therapist shook her head sadly - she was the only one who knew his story, and it was her hope that exposing him to other people would help him pull through. Before anyone could ask him about them further, she smiled and stood up, “That’s it for today. I’ll see you all again next week. And please, stay safe.” That last bit, Furiosa noticed, was added with a quick glance towards Angharad, who was already moving towards the door.

“Let’s go Max.” She said, looking at her dog as they started for the door, missing the strange look the unnamed man shot her as she spoke. Once safely out of the building and into her truck, she looked over at him, happily thumping his tail on the passenger’s seat, “What a sad bunch.” She told him, knowing she was counted in her statement, as she drove off.


	2. Anger of Angharad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angharad is the first to take a step towards opening up, and in doing so, she tugs the others closer to opening up as well.

The next session started off much like the first, with some obvious separation. The young women kept to each other again, Furiosa and ‘Fool’ managed to exchange a few more words, him looking mildly less nervous about being there, this time. Nux spent some of the time exchanging murmured words one on one with the therapist, before sneaking over to pet Max.

 

Dr. Annamore had other ideas for them, and after a few minutes of letting them loosen up with small talk, she stood and drew their attention. “Right. Now, I know this is hard for you all, but this kind of therapy is about working through your individual problems.” Her expression was understanding, but not overly sympathetic. She wasn’t here to make anyone feel worse, or belittle their experiences. “And remember, this won’t be a competition. A bad experience, or a bad life, does not negate the experiences someone else has gone though.” She warned, knowing that conversations of this nature could quickly turn into arguments of who’s life was worse.

 

They all nodded their understanding, now appropriately quiet.

 

“I will not call anyone out, and put them in the spot light. We’re here to support each other. But if anyone would like to start, please do.” She sat down again, and waited. Sometimes, when she did this, silence would stretch on forever. This time, though…

 

“I was kidnapped.” Angharad was the first to speak out, her voice deceptively soft yet holding a firmness beyond her years. “I was held, for a week. Raped. They intended on making me a part of their ring.” She looked up, her face fiercely proud. “I fought, and have the scars to prove it. But I made it out alive, along with my friend, here.” She rested her hands on her belly protectively.

 

“They tried to make us victims, but him and I? We’re survivors.”

 

Furiosa looked at the young woman in a new light, her eyes widening as she absorbed the information.‘Fool’ looked strangely moved, looking away and seeming absorbed in memory. Nux had even stopped scratching Max in surprise, looking at Angharad with wide eyes, while the other women has gone still, focusing on her words until-

 

“W-when is he due?” Nux spoke up suddenly, his voice a little clearer than it had been the other day.

 

 “Middle of November. About a month and a half, now.” She replied, obviously startled by his interest, when he’d seemed to distant himself from them before. “Why?”

 

“Ah…” He blushed slightly, then gave in - they may as well know. “I live at the hospital right now.” He admitted, tapping his tumors. “It’s boring, and I’m alone. A lot. So I knit the babies hats, blankets, booties, and mittens. The nurses told me it helps them a lot.” It was a silent offer, but it was enough to make her smile more honest, and she nodded to him in acceptance. As someone who was potentially dying, she realized that maybe he took solace in comforting those freshly born on the world.

 

‘Fool’ had been absorbed in his thoughts during this exchange, only finally coming out of his reverie. “The people who did this. Have they been apprehended?” His eyes held an unusually large amount of anger for someone who wasn’t directly involved.

 

She shook her head, “As soon as they realized I was gone, they packed it up and high tailed it into the bush. They know who he is, but if they can’t find them, they can’t arrest them.” Angharad grimaced, then spoke with intense passion, “I keep pondering getting a gun and going hunting, myself. I suppose that killing wouldn’t really serve justice, but I want him to pay. I want them to pay. But I also want the police to catch them so that they can find the other girls they’ve kidnapped, who weren’t lucky enough to get away. If I go and kill them, who knows where we’d find the girls scattered about.”

 

His eyebrows creased over his forehead, accepting her statement. “Hunting them would serve you no good… Yet.” His fingers twitched towards his belt as if hoping to find a gun there. “You know his name?” His eyes rose to meet hers again, and she returned the gaze solidly as she realized that this guy who was still a stranger to her would be more than willing to help her hunt the perpetrators down.

 

“Joe. They call him the Immortan, for some reason.” The corners of her lips twitched up, just barely. “He runs a gang - the war boys. They do more than just human trafficking, from what the cops told me, but… A lot of people are afraid of him.”

 

“Joe.” He repeated hoarsely, the anger on his face growing for a moment, then easing back to his previous haunted expression. “Thought so.”

 

Capable and Toast exchanged a long look, but refrained from speaking up, something that didn’t go unnoticed by Furiosa. She kept her mouth shut, though, and let them be. They fell back into slightly more casual conversation for the remainder of the session.

 

At the end of it Capable had cautiously approached Nux, careful not to get to close. He looked at her with wide eyes, surprised at her proximity, then looked away nervously. “You really know how to knit?” She asked softly, her eyes unable to keep from resting on the spot over his shoulder, where he’d said he had tumors.

 

“Y-yeah. I can. I’m good at it, too.” He noticed her gaze and slid a hand up to cover the spot protectively. He was used to being stared at, but something about someone as pretty as her doing it made him feel far more self conscious than he was used to. “Doctor? Can we get more yarn soon?” He looked towards Annamore, hoping she would rescue him. She did step forward, but was busy writing notes about today’s session.

 

“Mmhhmm.” She made a noise of agreement, “We can do that.”

 

Not about to let him get away so easily, Capable caught his attention again. “Can you teach me?” She asked curiously.

 

“Me, too.” The Dag had snuck her way over, her arm around Cheedo’s shoulder. “I want to make something green.” Her free hand rested on her belly for a moment, before she moved along, taking Cheedo with her.

 

Nux scratched the back of his bald head nervously, and stared after the Dag as she walked off before finally responding, “I can try? But I don’t have enough supplies for that.” He had plenty of reservations about this, but the nurses had been pressuring him to attempt to make friends beyond them. They were sweet, but he knew in the long run that he was still just a part of their job.

 

Capable nodded in acceptance, “I’ll get some, then.” She replied with a tiny smile, before walking out of the room, the last one out besides him and Annamore. He couldn't help but sigh in relief when she was gone, prompting a quiet chuckle from the doctor. "You're improving already."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't have the same amazing editor for this chapter that I had for the first one, so I apologize if the quality is lower. I hope you enjoy it all the same!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for stopping by to read this fic! While the first chapters will take place at therapy, the characters will start moving around more.


End file.
